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Charm and Politics
"...will definitely have to be on guard." The current leader of all Cybertron strides into the Senate Pavilion, speaking to his most trusted lawman as he does so. Sentinel Prime pauses just inside the doorway, resting a hand on Prowl's shoulder for a moment. "I have an audience to attend shortly, but you know I lend a great deal of weight to your reports, Prowl. I trust your opinion, after all; you know the regulations better than almost anyone, and I can trust you to have Cybertron's best interests at heart." Prowl had been walking with Sentinel, discussing the various issues that currently plagued this great planet. "We're always on guard, Prime. No place is perfect, but lately the unrest has been getting out of control. We'll need to make our move on Kaon soon....I have an inside contact." When Sentinel speaks of an audience to attend, he nods. "Of course." Prime's right-hand mech says simply. After all he is Sentinel's adviser, this is his job. "You're talking about the Animatronian emissaries?" "Good; those dissidents are starting to become a problem, and problems are best dealt with while they are still small. We would not want them putting any citizens at risk, after all," Sentinel notes to Prowl. Continuing deeper into the building and towards the audience chambers, he glances over with an approving smile. "I see you're keeping track of things. I expect no less from you. Yes, the Animatronians have sent a representative who seeks an audience. No doubt she'll be here soon." Touring Cybertron was certainly.. interesting, to say the least. Scorn will admit that many of the cities were indeed grand, though some could use some improvement. And the state of affairs for the Insecticons here.. Well, that will have to come later. Right now she has royal matters to discuss. When Sentinel Prime and his second-in-command eventually enter the audience hall she'll be there to greet them. Standing tall with the straightlaced posture of royalty and hands politely at her back like some military commander, Scorn raises her head slightly in acknowledgement when the two enter. "Sentinel Prime, so good of you to finally see me. Though I do appreciate the tour of your planet. It's.. curious." Fierce optics shaded by half-mast lids flick to Prowl and Scorn continues, face remaining rigid. "And Officer Prowl. A pleasure to see you again." The tape sized ant mech standing stock still at her side remains quiet for now and just eyes them while her far larger pair of guards loom at the back of the room. "'Starting' might be a bit of an understatement." Prowl mutters. "But nothing we can't deal with as it stands. Which of course is why we have to neutralize these threats while they're still contained, before they become disseminated." Specifically, he is referring to Kaon, because that's where the chaos is most rampant. The rest of the planet is...for the most part under control. He looks up and nods in brief greeting to Scorn as they enter the room. "Scorn." The officer's optics light on her entourage also for a few seconds, as if evaluating their physical capabilities should things get...difficult. Yes, leave it up to Prowl to predict the worst possible outcome, and be 100% prepared for it. "Emissary," Sentinel offers, his tone polite as he ofers Scorn a charming smile. "My apologies that it took so long to meet with you; a Prime's work is never done, I fear, and the demands on my time are many." Indeed, his tone suggests that, regardless of his /personal/ wishes, his time here today is limited. "I'm glad to hear that you have enjoyed a tour of our planet in the meantime, however. And to know that you've already been acquainted with our finest lawman." A sweeping gesture on the part of the Prime directs Scorn's attention towards one of the chairs, a clear invitation. Wouldn't you like to sit? Make yourself comfortable? Enjoy the comforts of the audience chamber? "However, I am glad to be able to welcome our Animatronian friends to Cybertron, and I hope I can be of assistance." Scorn has graced the courts of enough world leaders to know the games they play, the charms they put on. It's bothersome, in her opinion, but given the importance of her mission she at least relaxes her stance some. But she won't sit, instead politely holding up a hand to decline. "I mean no disrespect, but I would prefer to stand for now. I would rather we get right to business so we can all go about our day." She nods to Deadlift, the ant mech, and takes the datapad he hands her. A few taps on the screen brings her to the desired file and she hands it to the two mechs. "Some time ago the heir to Animatron's throne, kin to the Emperor, was sent to your planet to study under a mech known as Yoketron. Communication was held until you placed your Clampdown in effect and we've been unable to contact him since." Onscreen is a picture of Cheetor with a few statistics such as name, status, and the like, though he appears to have more animalistic features here. "It is my mission to find out where he is on your planet and to bring him back safely. I trust you understand the importance of this issue as it's my hope you might be able to help." "Hm." Prowl examines the information on the datapad. "Yes, unfortunately Yoketron is no longer operational." Of course he talks about people as if they were tools. "As for Cheetor, I'm sure we'll be able to see to it that some of our best investigators are placed on the case." He looks to Sentinel for confirmation of this likelihood. Now the Prime wears an expression of sympathy. "I can certainly see why you would be worried," he allows to Scorn. "Especially with recent unrest, someone young and full of, ah, 'aspirations' might well have stumbled into trouble. Unfortunately, we can hardly keep track of every single bot on-world, as much as we might wish otherwise." And now Sentinel draws himself up, the sympathy replaced by an expression of purpose. "Prowl is right, however. I'm certain you have your own people who you intend to have look into this, but Cybertron is unfamiliar ground. Prowl, you can spare a few of your best investigators, I expect? Ones who can join the Animatronians to help in their search." "I've brought five of my most skilled trackers to help in the search." Confirms Scorn. "I hope you'll allow them to search out Prince Cheetor. However.." A more steeled expression slides into place over her visage. "As Insecticons I would hope they will not be hindered by your populous. Since landing I've become somewhat aquainted with the state of their treatment here, and I would expect my party and I to have diplomatic immunity to such laws against them." Scorn makes sure to stare Sentinel directly in the optic when saying such, as if to remind him what might happen otherwise. It's not exactly a threat... Just a reminder. Prowl nods as Sentinel confirms his speculations. "Yes, of course." he raises an optic ridge at Scorn's potential threat. There are...reasons for the way the Insecticons are treated on Cybertron, of course. Surely Scorn would understand if she were better acquainted with the current situation. Shrugging slightly, he gives the Insecticon queen an equally pointed look. "You keep them out of trouble, and we won't have any problems. Simple enough?" Sentinel's smile falters for only a microsecond, replaced by something far colder. The Prime, it seems, does not appreciate threats, even merely implied ones. But then the charming politician is in evidence once more. "Diplomatic immunity extends to your entire delegation, so long as they do nothing to merit it being revoked." "As for our Insecticons, the situation is... unfortunate, and complex," the Prime continues. "Sometimes those who lead are called upon to make difficult decisions, ones that may seem cruel or harsh to a small number, to bring about a better life for all. Perhaps, if you remain here, you'll come to learn some of Cybertron's political realities." "Yes, it is an unfortunate situation. And at first glance it may seem cruel. But as a leader of your own people, I'm sure you could see the reason in it once you've become more familiar with Cybertron's various finanical and social issues." Prowl agrees. For the first time since meeting them, Scorn allows herself a smooth, tamed smile. "Excellent. We won't have any issues, then." Their talk of the Insecticon issues brings a more pensive look to her, however, the femme ticking through a few thoughts before canting head just slightly. "Perhaps.. Though I don't wish to remain too long and overstay my welcome. The moment Prince Cheetor is found we will be leaving Cybertron. But while I'm here I will treat this as a learning experience, as you said. Cybertron has been a curious planet for a long while now, acting as a hub for many mechanical beings, so I'm eager to learn as much about it as I can firsthand during my stay." A pause and a slight purse of lips before continuing. "As for the affairs of your Insecticons, I will respectfully remain out of them and simply.. observe." It almost hurts to say it, but she keeps such an emotion in check and keeps a staunch demeanor. "Good, then we shouldn't have any problems." Prowl replies with a nod. "I'm glad you have a desire to learn. Knowledge is power, as you know." He pauses, bringing up a roster on a datapad to see who might be available and best suited to assist the envoy in finding Cheetor. "I will be in contact with you regarding those assigned to your search. Would there be anything else?" "I trust we've dealt with all of the Animatronian concerns for the moment," the Prime notes in answer to Prowl's comment. After all, he is a very busy tyr... er, diplomatic leader of the Senate, and has a packed schedule to keep to. "I'll leave it to you to choose to the most suitable investigators, Prowl. And keep me informed of how this goes; I have every interest in seeing the wayward princeling returned to his people." "Why Officer, you sound so eager to get rid of me." Scorn really can't help but be amused by that, offering Prowl a sharp little smile before looking back to Sentinel. "But yet, I believe that will conclude our business today. My assistant here, Deadlift, will be in contact with your Second-in-Command to coordinate the search parties and such. For now, however, we will take our leave. And do keep the datapad for reference." Keeping her little smile, Scorn offers her hand to the Prime to shake. "A pleasure meeting you both. I'm sure this issue will be resolved quickly. And Sentinel, if I may call you that, should you find time then perhaps you would be kind enough to join me for drinks or somesuch. I would very much enjoy speaking to you at length." "Of course. Thank you for the information." Prowl subspaces the datapad with Cheetor's information on it, and allows the Prime to handle the handshaking. Pleasantries are just not his thing. Thus he does not return the pleasure of meeting to Scorn, either. He just nods curtly and turns to leave. Time is short, it's not that he was trying to get rid of her. But he'll let Prime explain that, in the politician's charming and charismatic way of speaking, of course. The Animatronian's hand is accepted, that charming smile firmly in place once more. "That sounds quite pleasant. One should never underestimate the value of good relations with our offworld partners, especially in trying times. Time permitting, of course," the Prime replies. "I'm afraid that the demands of governance and law-enforcement keep me quite busy; I have another matter to attend to, and I'm certain Prowl has no end to the demands on his time this duty cycle." Releasing Scorn's hand, the Prime straightens, evidently waiting for the Animatronian emissary to be on her way before turning his attention to whatever next matter awaits him. "Indeed." Scorn replies simply to the Prime, only breaking from him a moment to watch Prowl walk out. "Interesting mech. Either way, a good day to you, Sentinel. I do hope we speak again soon." Retracting her hand, her guards leave their post from the back and flank both sides as the mantis turns on a heel and strikes off out of the audience chamber with the sharp click of heels. There's much to do now that their little meeting is over, and the first is to contact home, if permitted, to tell them of the status of things. Once Scorn is gone and the audience chamber is closed, the smile fades from Sentinel's face. His attention snaps back to his trusted assistant, all the schmoozing warmth gone once more. "Prowl, before you leave... see that whatever investigators you assign to her are very /thorough/ in what reports they make; I'd like to make certain their only interests on our planet are the ones they claim. The last thing this situation needs are offworlds deciding to take it upon themselves to meddle in our social order." Now the Prime picks up the datapad that Scorn left behind for them, looking over the image on the screen in silence. When he speaks again, his tone is mild in a way that doesn't suit the words. "And should it start to look as though finding their missing kitten is a lost cause, I do trust the evidence will point towards the /appropriate/ culprits out in Kaon." Dropping the datapad onto a table, he glances over at Prowl. "After all, if we must tolerate offworlders involving themselves in our affairs, we may as well ensure they're a useful tool in our hand." Prowl pauses in the hallway just beyond the door when Sentinel seems to have something more to say to him in private. He turns and nods blankly. "Yes, in fact I thought I'd assign an...old friend of mine to the task. He and I used to work together in Mechaforensics before I was promoted, but he has since gained some particularly useful skills while working at the Institute. They could function as an effective failsafe plan, in the case that she or any of the others got any troublesome ideas." He sighs and turns away again. "Actually if colonists are involving themselves in our affairs, we -must- ensure that they are working toward maintaining order, whether they're aware of it or not. We can't afford to leave any options -open-." "Right then, if there is nothing else..." "No," Sentinel confirms. "That will be all." Then the Prime turns his attention back to the various matters arrayed on his desk; he wasn't lying about being busy, after all.